Drawn On Lips
by orange-tide
Summary: What if Oliver was crazier than what happened? What if he took his pain a little farther? One-shot. Read and Review.


**I was going to update Scarred Youth, but then I wrote this. I will, I promise. But this is just a little one-shot about what would happen if Oliver was just a little more insane.**

**Warning: I do use some graphics things, but not near enough to get a R rating, or whatever it is now. So, stop reading if you don't want to read it. Only parts of it are bad, like the end...it's just me getting bored...**

Duct tape doesn't really hurt when ripped off the skin. It stings, but you don't notice it. You're too in the moment, and why duct tape was applied to your mouth.

You probably could get it off, but you're too scared of what he might do. You walked straight into his trap. You believed him, when all he did was lie.

What really hurts is when he hits you with the gun he's holding. It momentarily stuns you, and he apologizes over and over. Then he applies the tape to make sure you don't scream.

No, what really hurts, deep down inside, is when he takes that blood red sharpie and traces the outline of your "beautiful, luscious lips" and fills them in with precision and caution. Then he lifts your chin and kisses you, saying how much he loves you.

You hold back tears at this point, because how could you have not seen this? It was staring dead in front of you.

You're so scared of what might happen. You're hoping someone heard that fear when you were on the phone. You're hoping someone bursts through that door and saves you.

All he keeps saying is how much he devotedly loves you, enough of it to make you want to puke. He threatens you with your life, and those of the ones you care for most. He goes through your purse and pulls out pictures of loved ones. Then he describes how he's gonna hurt them. How he won't be stopped, because why suspect him? He's done nothing wrong.

All this will occur if you make a sound or try to run.

Banging on the door stops his ransom rants. Questions are being asked, and he answers so calmly. He's moving the gun around like a pen.

And then you hear them stop and they begin to walk away. Your hope is gone, and you feel lost.

Your name is being screamed outside the door with haste and he nears you. The gun finds its place at your temple and he whispers more threats. You don't dare make a sound.

He blows off your savior, making up a story how you left a half hour ago. And you stare up at him as he explains this. Your savior doesn't give up, until finally, other words are spoken and it is so silent you hear the elevator go down.

More tears cascade down your placid face, stopping at the tape. They're trying to release you, but you'll never be released. This nightmare will keep going.

He seemed so innocent when you first met him. You thought he was finally someone who could understand you. He could help with your pain, your anguish. When really, all he did was make it worse.

You're a mess at this point. Dried blood on your head, your face red, the tears not stopping. You're gasping for breath because of the tape and tears.

He looks down at you, and a flash of pity comes across him. He says if no one's out there, he'll take off the tape.

His back is turned and your eyes shoot to the window. You're on the top level. It'd be a long way down if you jumped. And what could happen if he saw you? You can't risk it.

The rope around your waist and wrists is hurting so bad. The chair is uncomfortable, and you wish to die. To be rid of this agony.

He checks outside through the eye hole, then opens the door the slightest bit that he'll allow. No one's there. Everyone has given up.

Jokingly, he hangs the "Do Not Disturb" sign to the door knob. He shuts the door and makes sure it's locked before returning to you. You haven't moved. That's good, he tells you.

He lifts your head up again, and on instinct, your head turns the other way. He grabs your chin. You keep moving away from him. He's getting angry. You're getting more upset. The gun barrel connects with your head.

You're slipping into unconsciousness, but you're fighting it. He could do anything if you're out. And you don't want that to happen. So you stay awake and bear the excruciating pain as he apologizes.

He never does take the tape off your mouth, but he does kiss you again. You're too weak now to refuse. After that, he pulls your chair near the couches so he can sit down. For a while, he just stares at you, and he grins. He sees something in your eyes. Or rather, nothing. You're lost all hope. Your eyes are barren, a sea of hopelessness.

Then he goes on and explains how he first fell in love with you. How you made it all better for him. How he wants to be with you for the rest of your life. You think that he indeed will. You don't think your life will last much longer.

He sees you're weak, and he unties you off the chair. He lifts you up. You're surprised by his strength. He has a tight grip on your arm as he pulls you. You're walking backwards and you're afraid to fall. He pulls out a knife and shows it to you. Sweat begins to form on your brow.

Very carefully, he cuts a line between your lips, only once stabbing you. Then he puts his weight onto you with such a force that you're in the corner farthest away from the door. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, and you kick him. He slices your arm. You're bleeding hard. Your lip, head and arm have blood flowing nicely from the wound.

He tries one more time to take advantage of you. The taste of blood is in your mouth. Your shirt's up and you're scared. You're more scared than you'll ever be.

Your life flashes in front of you, and you give one last attempt. You kick him as hard as you can.

He stumbles back a few feet, and you're shaking. He grabs the gun and points it at you.

Then you scream at him with all your might. You tell him he's nothing, you'll never love him, no one ever will. You continue these words until you see the worst pain on his face. He smacks you with the gun again. You keep going. He's had enough. He takes off the safety.

You close your eyes and say your goodbyes. The guns goes off and you fall from the blast. You think it's the end until you open your eyes. You're alive. He, on the other hand, is not.

You mind is going a mile a minute, your eyes are pouring tears. You're scrambling for the phone. The pain is unbearable. You don't know how to get help. You can't call. Your hands are numb.

So you scream as loud as you can for help, but no one can get in. You continue to scream as you crawl to the door.

Banging is heard on the door once again, and you're exhausted. Mentally and physically. Your stomach has developed rug burns from the crawl.

They say they're coming and you wait. You don't know what to think. You're scared. Happy. Sad. Tired. Mad.

Then the door swings open and five police officers enter followed by your savior and his guardian.

Your savior runs to you and you're crying freely. He holds you, and finally you feel safe.

Your savior unties you, and you make yourself to be the one to rip off the tape. You do it quickly, and you scream. It doesn't hurt nearly as much as you thought it would. You stare at the drawn on lips, and finally, after everything collapse.

The nightmare finally ended.

**So, that was my one-shot about Ollie. It wasn't too bad, was it? Please review, I know it was written in a kinda weird format. Oh well. I'll update Mockingbirds next, then Scarred Youth.**


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